


The Fourth Rail

by L_Greene



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, stripper!MacCready bc I have no self-control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where MacCready moonlights as a stripper and Aaron has no idea he's actually a mercenary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fourth Rail

Aaron had heard a lot about Goodneighbor from settlers and people in Diamond City. He knew the place had a sizable Ghoul population, mostly because (according to Piper and Nick) Diamond City’s mayor, a man named McDonough, had kicked them all out. Aaron thought that was a little unfair--the non-feral Ghouls were just humans who looked different and lived longer--but maybe that was just him being an idealist. But Goodneighbor had taken in the Ghouls (at least, that was the way he’d heard the story), and it was apparently now a haven for the seedy underbelly of the Commonwealth. Mercenaries, chem-heads, gangsters--all could be found within the town’s walls. Hopefully, he could find and hire someone willing to find Kellogg with him. He’d considered asking Nick or Piper, but both of them had lives and not as much combat experience as he would have liked.

So a mercenary was his best bet, and those could be found in Goodneighbor.

He’d barely made it three steps into the city walls before he was accosted by a man in road leathers, demanding protection money. Aaron knew his type, though. He wouldn't take no for an answer. So Aaron unholstered his pistol and shot him in the head.

To his surprise, no one--not even city security with their machine guns--raised an alarm or tried to attack him in response. In fact, a Ghoul in a tricorner hat and a red, knee-leng coat approached him with a grin.

“What a way to make an entrance,” he rasped. “Shame about Finn, but he had it coming. A show of dominance, just what I like to see.”

“I figured he wasn’t gonna accept a polite ‘fuck off.’ Aaron Bateman,” he added by way of introduction.

“Damn straight. I’m Hancock, the mayor around here. Welcome to Goodneighbor. Need a guide?”

He wasn't sure what to make of Hancock just yet. The ghoul seemed harmless enough right now, but it could all be an act. “Just tell me where I can get a drink around here.”

“The Third Rail would be your best bet. Only bar in town. And if you’re here, I’m guessing you’re not the most moral of people, so you’ll probably enjoy this. Normally, we got a singer named Magnolia who performs, but it just so happens that tonight is our monthly strippers’ night. Good way to lose a few caps. Or earn some, if you feel like performing yourself,” Hancock added with a wink.

“I’ll check it out.” He figured Hancock was joking, but it wouldn’t hurt to check out the bar. Where there was alcohol, there were mercenaries.

* * *

 

Hancock wasn’t joking. When Aaron entered The Third Rail nearly an hour later, the first person was taking the stage. _This should be interesting_ , Aaron thought, heading over to the robot behind the bar. He ordered a beer and took a seat not too far from the stage.

As he glanced around, he saw that both the audience and the strippers varied wildly, a surprising blend of people--men, women, people who probably identified as neither, human, and Ghoul alike. Despite--or perhaps because--of it, he felt oddly at ease. He’d always felt out-of-place at home in 2077, like he didn’t quite belong. Even after marrying Nora and having Shaun, there was always that lingering sense of alienation. Here, at least, he could blend in.

Onstage, a female Ghoul bowed dramatically and gathered up her clothes and the caps people had thrown at her. The disembodied voice that named the performers boomed out, “Alright! Give it up for Silky Sandra!” A chorus of cheers and whistles went up from the crowd, Aaron’s among them. He didn't necessarily find any of these strippers attractive, but it took a lot of courage to get up in front of complete strangers and take your clothes off. Then again, it probably took more to get up in front of people you saw fully-clothed every day and take your clothes off. Either way, Aaron could respect that and he tossed a few caps toward the stage.

“Now, please welcome to the stage, Goodneighbor’s _other_ resident mayor, Mad Mac!”

Aaron’s heart stopped and then revved back up again, twice as fast. The man was easily half a foot shorter than Aaron’s six feet, one inch, but Mad Mac was still attractive in a rough, dangerous way. He had a grin splashed across his face, a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth, and an assault rifle in his right hand pointing straight up. His eyes were violently blue, so bright that Aaron almost couldn't look away--at least until he began unzipping the jacket of his road leathers, exposing his toned, lightly muscled chest and stomach. Aaron was so consumed with lust that he briefly forgot he was at a makeshift strip club and supposed to express his appreciation through tossing caps at the stage. He dug out a fistful of caps and let them fly amid the hooting and cheering from the rest of the audience.

Mad Mac’s gaze locked with his for one long moment, and then Mad Mac squeezed the trigger, letting off three blasts. Aaron glanced up for half a second, expecting bits of the ceiling to be cascading down, but the rounds must have been blanks since the ceiling was still relatively intact. It also must have been a normal part of his routine since no one else seemed fazed.

Smirking, Mad Mac moved fluidly, practically flowing out of his leather jacket and letting it fall to the stage. He turned in a lazy circle, his rifle slung across his shoulders. Aaron had to bite his lip to keep from drooling a bit--Mad Mac’s back had a tantalizing curve as it slid down, the muscles defined but not overly-pronounced, and the pants of his road leathers were slung dangerously low on his hips. The pants were tight enough for Aaron to make out every angle of Mad Mac’s perfectly-shaped ass, and it made his cock throb. Part of him was annoyed with himself for his response, but he couldn't be too upset--Mad Mac was gorgeous, with those blue eyes of his and prominent cheekbones and that easy smirk. It was looking like coming to Goodneighbor was a wise idea.

Mad Mac exhaled a stream of smoke, still keeping his cigarette clenched between his teeth, and put one booted foot up on the nearest footlight. Now that Aaron was looking (and he couldn't look away), he saw that Mad Mac had a belt of 5.56 rounds strapped to his left thigh. He reached between his legs and, with a practiced ease, loosened the buckles holding the rounds to his leg, much to the delight of the crowd. The belt fell to the stage floor and he kicked it back into his jacket.

Aaron lit a cigarette to give himself something else to focus on. He didn't want to tear his eyes from Mad Mac, but he felt like he was dangerously close to leering, and he didn't want to come off as creepy. He _did_ want to meet this guy and find out more about him, though. On impulse, he headed back to the bar. “Hey,” he said to the bartender, a Mr. Handy called Whitechapel Charlie. “Would he mind if I bought him a drink?”

“You mean the bloke onstage? Mad Mac?”

“Yeah, him.”

“You ain't from around here, are you, guv? He’d probably appreciate it--drinks like a fish, that one.”

“Okay. Then can you send him a beer once he gets offstage?”

“Alright. Want me to tell him who it’s from?”

“I mean, sure, if he asks. You can tell him.”

“Consider it done. He’ll be finishing up in a minute, anyway, so get your looks in while you can.”

“Thanks.” He plunked down three caps and headed back to his seat, enjoying the view as Mad Mac shimmied out of his pants, his ass practically on full display. The leathers hit the floor with the rest of his clothes, Mad Mac still grinning like a million caps. Something about him seemed very young, but that couldn't be right--he had to be nearly thirty. Still, Aaron wasn’t about to complain. Mad Mac had his rifle in hand again and he threw up an overly-exaggerated salute (it reminded Aaron a bit of the mocking salutes they would give obnoxious officers) before bowing deeply.

A few more caps hit the stage as the disembodied voice from early boomed out, “Give it up for Mad Mac!” He quickly scooped up his clothes and caps, slinging the rifle over his shoulder, and hurried offstage to a back room. Aaron saw one of the non-robot employees follow behind him a few moments later with a bottle of beer in hand, so he figured that was the bottle he’d bought--unless someone else had had the same idea. He tried to put that thought out of his head, though.

He didn’t really pay attention to the next performer. Instead, he contemplated his next move. If he couldn't find a mercenary tonight, he could probably room at the Hotel Rexford until tomorrow evening. He definitely wasn't going back to Diamond City--the bar was seedy enough, but the local government seemed rather opposed to mercenaries operating out of the city. This town, on the other hand, almost welcomed it. And if he couldn't find someone around here, he was pretty sure he could find someone who knew where he could find a hired gun.

“Hey. I hear I have you to thank for this.”

Aaron glanced up, right into Mad Mac’s blue eyes. Up close, his nose was crooked, like it had been broken several times. He carried the beer in one hand and he was fully clothed again, wearing a ratty old duster over an olive-green shirt. It gave him a sort of disheveled look that was unintentionally distracting. “Yeah. Whitechapel Charlie said you’d appreciate it.”

Mad Mac smirked a bit and dropped to the sofa next to him. “He’s right. Rob MacCready.”

He sure didn't _look_ like a Rob. “Aaron Bateman.”

“So what brings you to Goodneighbor, Aaron?”

He wasn't sure if Rob was flirting with him, and he was even more out-of-practice with the whole flirting business in the first place. Apparently, it had been about 210 years since the last time he’d flirted with anyone. “Is it that obvious I’m not a local?”

“Only because I _am_ a local--sort of--and I don’t recognize you.”

“Sort of?”

“I’ve lived here for close to a year now. I’m from the Capital originally.”

_Jesus._ Wondering about how the rest of the country had fared hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Is it much different from here?”

“Same sh--stuff, different location. That’s basically it. Nothing really changes.”

“I know that feeling.”

“So what _are_ you doing in Goodneighbor?”

Rob had barely looked away from him once since they started talking. Aaron was slowly becoming more sure that, yes, he _was_ flirting with him. _One more night won’t make a difference._ “Just looking to get lost for awhile.”

Rob chuckled. “You picked a heck of a place to do that, then.”

“Goodneighbor seems like my kind of town so far.”

Rob’s smirk widened a bit. “Yeah? What d’you like about it?”

“Well, the bar is nice,” Aaron joked. “I haven’t had a cold beer in two hundred years.”

Rob laughed and took a swig of his own beer. “If you like the bar, you should see my room.”

Apparently once the bombs fell, subtlety as a concept had gone out the window. Aaron had to say that he liked the change. It was refreshing. “Yeah, sounds good.”

* * *

 

Rob’s room at the back of The Third Rail was small, with a sofa along one wall, a mattress in the corner, and a small table that served as a bar against another wall. As far as rooms went, Aaron had seen better, but he’d also seen worse.

Not that he paid much attention to it after the first cursory glance--after that, he was too focused on Rob and the feeling of their lips pressed together. He didn’t remember how, but he found himself sitting on the couch with Rob climbing onto his lap. His cock ground against Rob’s ass and Aaron moaned softly, his fingers finding their way into Rob’s hair. The shorter man tugged off his duster and tossed it aside, never breaking their kiss. His mouth tasted like beer and cigarettes, and that combination had never driven Aaron this crazy before.

Keeping one hand against the back of Rob’s head, his other hand went to Rob’s belt. Considering the shake of his fingers--his heart was pounding and Rob’s kiss was making him dizzy--he was a bit surprised he managed to loosen his belt so quickly. Rob rocked his hips against Aaron’s as he sat up to finish unzipping his pants, and Aaron took advantage of the brief interlude to unbutton the shirt of his Minutemen outfit and cast it aside.

It was strange how fast he’d gotten used to kissing Rob, because when he pulled back to take off his boots and finish pulling off his pants, Aaron felt lost. He wanted to grab Rob and pull him right back to his chest and feel his soothing weight on him again. To his head, it had only been six weeks since the last time he’d done this with anyone, but his body felt every last one of the 210 years that had passed. Too damn long.

As if reading his thoughts, Rob finished wriggling out of his pants and climbed right back into his lap, pressing his lips hard against Aaron’s, his hands fumbling with Aaron’s belt and fly. Aaron exhaled sharply and sucked Rob’s lower lip into his mouth, nibbling gently.

Rob moaned shakily, grinding his ass deliberately into Aaron’s lap, and when he palmed Rob’s stiffening cock, the shorter man actually _whimpered_ , his nails digging into Aaron’s back. “F-- _god_ , take your friggin’ pants off already,” he breathed.

Maybe if the circumstances were different, he would have teased him by calling him _MacNeedy_ or something equally lame, but he had to admit that right now, he had absolutely zero interest in waiting any longer than necessary. Rob raised his body long enough for Aaron to push down his pants before settling back into his lap with another fierce kiss.

He wanted to flip them both around, bend Rob over the back of the sofa, and let instinct take over, but he somehow managed to restrain himself. He did, however, dig his nails into Rob’s thighs, thoroughly enjoying the sensations of so much of their skin in contact. Rob’s ass pressed hard against Aaron’s cock, and it seemed like he was rocking his hips again. Aaron groaned and tore his lips away from Rob’s just long enough for him to stick three fingers in his mouth.

It had been awhile since he’d done this--not since before dating Nora, which had been three years before they’d gotten married. Even to his own perception, it had been a long time, and he hoped it wasn't obvious how woefully out-of-practice he was. Rob probably had all sorts of people back here all the time.

If Rob noticed, though, he didn't let on. He bit down hard on his lower lip, sliding his body against Aaron’s fingers, his own nails biting into Aaron’s shoulders. He didn't know how much longer he could wait, not with Rob making those delicious little moans, not with him riding his fingers like that. Through gritted teeth, he breathed into Rob’s ear, “You ready?”

He nodded sharply, almost frantically, and it wasn’t the needy _“Fuck me”_ Aaron was expecting from him, but it was still a yes, and Aaron was only too happy to oblige. He carefully lined up his cock with Rob’s opening, and Rob sank down until Aaron was fully hilted in him.

He tried not to moan, but Rob was hot and felt like heaven on earth and he felt Rob’s body shudder with pleasure, and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. Everything--his past, his future, everything outside of the two of them in that back room--fell away for a few blissful moments as he completely lost himself to Rob MacCready. His mouth fixed on the man’s neck and he sucked, enjoying the feeling of Rob’s little jolt as Aaron’s teeth scraped against gist skin.

_Jesus_ fuck _, he can ride a cock_ , Aaron thought, wrapping his fingers around Rob’s and stroking. His muffled whimpers of “Oh, god, _yes_ , so good-- _Aaron, god_ \--” were a pretty good indication that he was doing alright, too. It wasn't until Rob’s head tipped back and a breathless moan tore itself from his throat that Aaron realized just how well he was doing--but by then, it was too late to turn back. His back arching against Aaron, Rob came with a low groan, his whole body shaking as he released, and Aaron couldn't hold himself back anymore, either. A few seconds later, just as Rob’s tremors started to subside, Aaron came, too, one arm pinning Rob tightly against him.

For about thirty seconds, they both just sat there, catching their breath. Rob’s sandy-brown hair was damp with sweat and Aaron pushed it back. Again, he was struck by just how unnaturally blue his eyes were, like he’d somehow captured the sky in his irises.

“So you, uh, you staying here for the night?” Rob asked abruptly, starting to disentangle himself from Aaron.

_Should have expected that._ “I can always get a room at the Rexford, right?”

Rob winced. “I didn't mean it like that. I’m not gonna kick you out of here or anything. I mean, that walk of shame isn't very far, but…” Rob shrugged as he started hopping back into his pants. “It’s been awhile since I had anyone spend the night.”

Aaron tried to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, I don't mind. Who really wants to get dressed again after that, right?”

Rob chuckled and flopped onto the mattress in the corner. Aaron hunted for his own pants and wriggled back into them, leaving them unbuttoned and unzipped--they would be far too uncomfortable to sleep in otherwise. A satisfying sense of lethargy overtaking him, he crawled onto the mattress next to Rob and was asleep within moments.

* * *

 

Someone rapped sharply on the door, jarring Aaron awake. He poked his head up, but Rob was already rolling to his feet and shuffling to the door. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured to Aaron before cracking the door.

A familiar voice, but one Aaron couldn't immediately place, said, “MacCready! Looks like you had a fun night, huh?”

“Some of us get our kicks from things besides chems.”

“Well, it’s been awhile since you've gotten kicks of any kind.”

“Do you have a point, Hancock, or are you just here to annoy me?”

_Hancock. The mayor. What the hell is he doing here?_

“I just came to check on my favorite mercenary and find out what kind of fun you got up to. I came by a few hours ago, but Charlie said you’d disappeared in the back with a mysterious, dark-haired stranger.”

“I figured most of the other patrons probably wouldn't appreciate it if we started going at it in the main room.”

“Feeling better, then?” Hancock almost sounded smug. “I told you you needed to get laid.”

“Screw you,” Rob hissed. “That’s none of your f--friggin’ business.”

There was only silence for a second until Hancock, sounding genuinely apologetic, said, “I’m sorry--I didn't mean it like that. I was just wondering if this mysterious, dark-haired stranger just might happen to be new to Goodneighbor as of yesterday--because I, too, met one of those yesterday, and I have to say, I liked him.”

“Yeah, I’m awake,” Aaron finally said, sitting up. In the dim light, he could make out two or three scattered hickeys on Rob’s neck and a beady black eye on the other side of the door--Hancock, no doubt.

“Bateman, bless my soul,” Hancock joked.

“Don’t you need to have one of those in your possession first?” Rob shot back.

“Glad I could play matchmaker. The first thing he did was ask where he could get a drink.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than harass people just trying to sleep at...Jesus, four in the morning?”

Hancock stuck out his tongue, and Rob slammed the door on him. He shuffled back to the mattress and flopped down, letting out a tired sigh.

“So. Are you actually a mercenary?” Aaron asked, not sure if he should still take Hancock at his word.

“Yeah, and I could do without the judgment, so if you want to criticize me--”

“That’s not what I was going to do at all. I just have to wonder, how bad is the mercenary business when you have to strip for caps?”

Rob rolled over and shot him an irritated look. “I don't _have_ to--I just _want_ to. It’s something I enjoy, and every extra cap helps. I happen to be a crack shot.” He closed his eyes again.

_You just fucked the first mercenary you’ve run into out here. This is either bizarre coincidence or heavy-handed fate._ “I came to Goodneighbor looking for a mercenary, actually. And I find you. So that’s interesting.”

“You look like you can take care of yourself. What do you need a mercenary for?”

Aaron had only told this to Nick and Ellie. It felt odd to recount it again. “To hunt down the bastard who killed my wife and kidnapped my son right in front of me.”

Rob’s eyes flew open again. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Okay, Bateman. I’m in.”


End file.
